Pretty Clever
by twice the rogue
Summary: Molly Hooper, shy, clever and a little insecure moves to London after a break up and meets a man who turns her world around. A series of one shots about Molly Hooper and Sherlock. Starting with how they met. Funny, heartbreaking, and romantic. The story of obsession and a loyal friendship.
1. Mr Hewitt's Kidney

**Pretty Clever**

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of it's characters and am not making any profit off of them.

Hi guys, so this is going to be a group of one shots that string together. All of whom staring as the main character the wonderful Miss Molly Hooper. Probably stay at T but if it becomes M i'll give a warning before it does. Probably not the most original thing in the world but there we go.

Mr. Hewitts Kidney – Or how Molly met Sherlock.

When I was a little girl my father used to tell me that being smart was better than being pretty. It wasn't that he was pointing out that I was plain or anything, he was trying to comfort me. The girls at school would tease me a lot. I always seemed to grow in a gangly way, I had bug eyes and for a long time braces and whatever I wore it never seemed to fit right. I spent the majority of my teenager years trying not to be seen. I would hide in the library throughout lunchtimes. Not even my teachers knew who I was as I would keep my head down in class, It was a real surprise for them when I got full marks on most of my exams, they hadn't even known I existed. University was easier, being clever was respected there. I even had a few girls who tried to take me under wing and showed me how to straighten my hair and told me how lucky I was that I was petite but I never felt entirely comfortable when they dressed me up and took me out on parade.

I was with my first boyfriend for eight months. He was nice, sweet, loud at times, he also cheated with me on a girl called Fudge. That was her actual name. I was heartbroken. I had a few boyfriends here and there, I was never popular but I was never unpopular and I started to feel secure in myself. I no longer felt I was ugly, I was perhaps what some people would class as plain but some people would say cute and I could be interesting. Working with dead people can sometimes put people off but not always.

My second serious relationship started in the middle of my fifth year at Uni. I was in the autopsy lab when I managed to drop a kidney. I hate it when I do that, they always make the wettest thudding sound. But before I could pick it up and try to place it back into the body without anybody noticing when a figure came into view and bent down before me. He's name was Andrea, I'd noticed him before. He was difficult not to notice, he was tall and dark skinned, from Jordan. He was always impeccably dressed under his plastic apron. He never spoke much but he always had a kind smile for anybody. He had the thickest eyelashes I had ever seen over the top of eyes that were black but not hard. I felt my heart flutter as our eyes met and his fingers brushed mine as he passed me Mr. Hewitt's diseased flesh. As I left to go scrub myself off in the women decontamination showers I heard feet rushing up behind me.

"Molly?"

I turned around and saw Andrea running after me.

"Did I forget something?"

"No, I, uh..." He gave a nervous laugh. "There's a nice café down James Street."

"The farmyard kitchen?"

"Yes. You know it?"

"Yes."

"Ah good."

"Right, why is it good?"

"Oh, um.. yes I didn't actually ask you did I? Would you like to go and eat there, after you clean up?"

"Oh, yes, okay then."

"I'll meet you at the entrance of the library then?"

"Yes, alight."

I had a date, and I had managed to get it whilst dressed in a t-shirt and plastic apron and some brain remnants.

It was that type of relationship that's slow and warm and the person becomes your friend and then you realize that you're in love with them. We moved in together, we lived together. He held me all through my Fathers funeral. He comforted me for months until the pain started to wan a little. I thought that he would propose to me. Most of my friends from university had got engaged shortly after graduating but my father had been ill at my graduation and the timing wouldn't have been right. One morning as we got up he looked over at me. He gave me a nervous kiss and a small smile.

"We'll talk tonight." He said seriously.

"Okay. " I replied hopefully.

That night I came home expecting something romantic, a candle lit dinner perhaps. But instead the lights were on and the TV off and Andrea sat there with his head in his hands. I stood looking at him.

"What's going on?"

"I can't do this any more. I waited, whilst your father was ill, I didn't want to hurt you."

It slowly started to sink in. I couldn't accept it though.

"What are you saying?"

He looked up at me.

"I'm going home. I've booked the tickets."

For the first time I saw the suitcases poking out from behind the sofa.

"Why?" Is the only thing that I could say.

"Because I don't love you any more."

What could I do about that? I was the only thing he could have said that I couldn't argue with. I still loved him but he didn't love me. I was too shocked to do much as he called a taxi and waited to leave. I didn't know what to do. I had a moment of weakness as he opened the door to leave.

"Don't. I just, I didn't know."

"How didn't you know?"

Again, it was the only think I couldn't answer. I don't know how I didn't know. I thought everything was fine. I had thought he was going to propose. We had been comfortable.

A month later I was sat in my pajamas eating cold pizza and watching Judge Judy when the phone rang. I checked the ID, it was Helen. She had been my best friend throughout university, I used to go on double dates with Andrea Helen and her boyfriend Pete. I didn't want to talk to her, she had got married last year, she was also pregnant. Her life was going where she wanted it to, mine was falling apart. I sighed and pressed the green button.

"Hi."

"Hi Molly. So me and Pete have been talking and there's a position in Bart's that we think you would be perfect for."

"Bart's, London? I'm in Manchester."

"Okay, let's go back and take it a step slower. You are only in Manchester because Andrea got a job there."

"I have a job here."

"You're a pathologist and all you're doing there is running DNA samples. This is an actual assistant pathologist job. And the head pathologist has a really bad heart so, you know, promotion possibilities."

Molly sighed.

"I'm happy where I am."

"You're stuck where you are. Pete has already recommended you for the job, the interview is next week. So come down, we've made up the nursery for you. At least it's a holiday for you."

"I can't book time off work on short notice."

"Think about it sweets, we're worried about you."

At first I didn't think that I would go to the interview. But as I woke up on the sofa the next morning with a huge neck crick and a slightly hung over feeling. As I showered and looked at the bottles of men's shampoo that were still on the shelf some kind of resolve hardened inside me. My life wasn't where I wanted it to be. Something needed to change.

I had always done the sensible thing in life. But at that moment in time it seemed like doing the sensible thing wasn't working. So I did something reckless instead. I handed in my notice. I packed a bag. I headed to London.

Three weeks later it was my first day at Bart's. I had tied my hair back in a pony tail, I had forgone make up, I had shrugged into my white coat and looked at myself in the mirror. The girl staring back at me was ready for anything that the day would bring.

"Miss Hooper?"

I saw an over weight sweating man running towards me. I gave him a nervous smile.

" Sorry i'm late, I'm Richard. I'm head of HR. I've been asked to show you around."

"Oh, thank you."

I followed him around the building being shown the labs and lunch rooms. He was nice. He tried to make little jokes that weren't actually funny but I appreciated that he was trying to make me feel welcome and less anxious on my first day.

We stopped in the locker room and he gave me time to put my bags away. He handed me spare coats and goggles and a box of gloves.

"So, ready to get on with the job?"

"Yes. Where do I start?"

"Well, we are backed up. There was a big pile up on the M25 that Dr. Morrison is going to be working on all day. He's got to fill out paper work and such before starting and it's best not to disturb him for a while. So, I was wondering if because we are so backed up in our cultures if you would be happy spending the morning working on them. Start you off slowly as it were. Then on to the accident victims after lunch."

"I love a good accident victim after lunch. I have no idea why I said that."

"It's okay, nerves. Now the cultures are just your average checks, making sure there's no big epidemic about to destroy London and answering the usual which drug did you overdose on questions."

"Usually all of them."

"That's the way. So, if you want to follow me I'll take you to your work station."

I followed him down long hallways that I felt I would get lost in. After a few staircases and corridors he stopped at a single door. I wondered why he was hesitating.

"Ah, he's here."

There was a note of disapproval in his voice.

"Who?"

"Holmes, he sometimes works here. No idea why though he does have a something or other in some sort of chemistry. He runs tests for the police. Bit quick on the whip if you know what I mean."

"Um, no I don't."

"Don't worry, don't get involved an you won't end up throwing any bodies off of roofs or meeting any criminal masterminds."

I smiled nervously at the joke.

"Get many of those in London do you?"

"Ah, you'll find it quiet different to Manchester I'm sure."

"Good, I need a change."

"Right, well, I'll leave you to it and check on you later. Good luck Miss Hooper."

"Thanks Richard." I shook his hand again and turned to face the laboratory taking a deep breaht. I looked around, the lab was laid out in very much the way I would expect a teaching hospital to be laid out. I had been given a small pile of files to work through. I flicked through them and saw that they were all pretty standard tests, my biggest problem would be in finding the various dyes, I guessed I could ask the man.

He was bent over the microscope. He was tall and lean and well dressed, he had the most wonderful dark curls that made me a little jealous but the microscope was blocking a large part of his face. I looked at him for a long moment waiting for him to speak. He didn't. It wasn't unusual for somebody to get so caught up in their work that they didn't notice what was going on around them. I took off my coat and hung it up on the peg and I went to my work station to check through some cultures and slides from an autopsy of a homeless man who had died a week before.

About half an hour in the man across from me started to mutter. I looked up.

"Problem?"

He flinched slightly as if he hadn't realized there was anybody else in the room.

"How long have you been here?"

"About half an hour."

"Hmm." He muttered and glanced back down through his microscope.

"Heavy metal poisonings."

"Pardon?"

"She's been putting gold salts in his food."

"You're investigating a murder?"

"A murder suicide, she put the salts in her own food as well. Why would she do that?"

He looked at me fully and for a moment my breath caught in my throat. He had such an intense stare, blue eyes and high cheek bones, it was a unique face that was only beautiful because of it's proportions, a nose a millimeter longer, a slightly less curved lip, eyes a darker blue and it would all be ruined but as it was it was undeniably beautiful. The thought shocked me. I had not thought that way about any man other than Andrea in the last two years, I hadn't expected that part of my brain to wake back up so suddenly.

"It was a mistake?"

"No. It was on purpose. She wanted to kill him but she wanted to kill herself to."

"Well, why did she want to kill him?"

"He was cheating on her."

"Well then she knew she had lost him. She was angry enough to want to kill him but she also didn't want to live without him."

He squinted at me, his eyebrows furrowing. His lips pursed slightly.

"That's stupid."

"People are when they're in love."

" True. I didn't think of that."

"No."

"Humans are strange."

"You are human."

"Maybe."

He made me nervous, but he also made me interested. I didn't want him to stop talking, I wanted to know more about him, I ended up saying something stupid.

"I could do an autopsy for you to prove it."

"Then I'd have to be dead."

"Well, yes that might be an issue."

"Think I'll have to pass."

"Yes, well if you ever change your mind."

"You'd be happy to murder me and cut me up."

"Yes."

" It usually takes people a few days of knowing me before they get to the point where they want to kill me. So you're the new pathologist?"

"Yes."

"Sherlock, pleased to meet you." He said holding his hand out.

My skin tingled as I shook it.

"Molly Hooper."

"Nice to meet you Molly Hooper. I read your files."

"My files."

"Yes."

"Are you involved in the recruitment process?"

"No, just interested."

"Right."

"You're very proficient. If I do ever want an autopsy I shall ask you."

"Thank you."

"You're going to be useful Miss Hooper. Got to go. Got to save a murders life so they can spend the rest of it in prison."

He walked out the door leaving me feeling a little dazed. It took a while to get focused back on the cultures after that. There had been something so strange about the encounter, I'd never had anything like it in my life. I had the strangest feeling that my life was taking a turn to the more exciting, that a life that had previously been safe and well planned was about to have an element of adventure and it was all to do with that strange man Sherlock Holmes. It was exciting but a little frightening but wasn't that why I had come to London? To shake things up, to start again. It looked like I might get my wish.

At midday Richard came back in. He gave me a smile as he looked over the files.

"I'll show these to Doctor Morrison but I'm guessing you've got it right. Shall we go to lunch?"

"Yes. I had a question."

"Ask me anything."

"That man, Sherlock. Who is he?"

"He calls himself a consulting detective. He's hired to find out who rich women's husbands are sleeping with but somehow Detective Lestrade, a proper policeman, found him and thinks he has a useful perspective. He's autistic or something, sees the things other people don't. But he's arrogant and rude and I think that one day he's just going to get himself into big trouble. That's why it's probably best not to get too involved, you don't want to be dragged down with him."

"No, I mean, I've only just arrived. Troubles the last thing I want."

The thing was, I think I did want trouble.

When I got back to Helen's she was sat at her kitchen table looking at a baby magazine.

"You're home late, how did it go?"

"Good, it's been a long time since I did a proper autopsy. I got my own bodies and everything Dr... just looked over my shoulder every now and then. I mean, this is what I was trained to do. I don't know why I let myself stay in that little D.N.A. Lab for so long."

"You were wasting your talents. How were the people?"

"I met some people at lunch and they were nice."

She gave me a little sideways smile. Any men?"

"Mostly men?"

"Any single and cute?"

"Helen!"

"It's been two months."

"Exactly, it's only been two months."

I thought of the man with the curls and the strange name.

"So there isn't anybody?" Helen pushed.

"There may be somebody. But it's only the first day. You don't expect me to fall in love at first sight do you?"

The end.

Reviews always appreciated.


	2. Dry Valleys and Mauna Loa

Thank you to everybody who followed and reviewed the first chapter. I wasn't expecting such a quick response when I haven't been writing on this site in a while. Here's the next one for you.

_Dry Valleys and Mauna Loa_

"Are you sure about this Molly?"

Molly looked around at the small apartment. She dropped her bag on the floor.

"Of course I am." She couldn't keep the hint or worry out of her voice as she looked around. The floral lilac wallpaper was pealing of the walls in the corner. Her new second hand sofa was sat in the middle of the room. Red corduroy, totally different from the whites and blacks and glass that Andrea had liked. She would plan the rest of the decoration around that. She looked over at Helen who was biting her lip.

"Don't worry." I said placing a hand on Helen's shoulder.

" I think you should come back and stay with us till the moving van arrives next week."

"I'm just eager to get started, and it's a sofa bed, I've got new sheets and new pots and pans so I have everything I need."

What I didn't say was that I couldn't stand being around her and Pete everyday, I had thought I would be trying to find a bridesmaid dress that suited her pregnant stomach. Instead I was stood here in this one bedroom flat that could fit four times inside the house I'd shared with Andrea. I felt like I was at the start of a journey, it's like I was stood in a harbour about to get on a boat but I had no idea where the boat was going and the sky looked like it might break into a storm. I had no idea what was ahead and Helen had this very obvious path written out in the curve of her stomach.

Helen was staring at me with a doubtful expression.

"Well, I love you. I'm glad you moved here. You know where I am if you need me." She said leaning over and kissing me on the cheek.

I smiled and hugged her goodbye.

Once she had gone the flat felt a lot more empty, then again it was empty apart from a few things that could be carried in suitcases and a sofa bed. I rung through an order for sweet and sour on my phone then searched through my suitcases for my book. It seemed so quiet as I sat down on the sofa to read. It wasn't long before my eyes started to fill with tears. I tried to blink them away but it didn't work.

I was expecting a quiet day at work, Wednesdays tended to be quiet, for some reason not many people died on Tuesdays. I needed a quiet day, I had considered calling in sick because I hadn't slept. As I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror hung in my locker I looked like a mess. It wouldn't do. I pulled my shower bag out and pulled my hair into a ponytail, I put on some foundation hoping to hide the patchiness of my skin and put on a little lip gloss. I still looked a mess but now I didn't look like I had been curled up crying all night.

I smiled and made a little conversation in the cafeteria as I brought a bottle of water and an apple. Nobody seemed to notice the fact that I was having a bad day and that made me feel a little better. I could stay professional. I ate the apple as I walked up to the lab, I had fallen into the habit of starting the mornings in the lab and the afternoons with Dr. Morrison in the autopsy room. I was starting to worry though, Dr. Morrison was a man not far of his seventieth birthday. He was brilliant, I knew that, I had read some of his articles but even though his mind was still on top form I had noticed his hand had a tremor. Not as bad in a pathologist as in a surgeon but it could be a hint of some under lying problem. Despite what Pete hinted at when I first moved here I didn't want to be anything more than an assistant at this point. It didn't matter that I had been top of my class, I still didn't have enough in job experience. Helen had been right, I had put my own career on hold to let Andrea follow his. I now didn't know where I was heading and I needed more time to settle before Dr. Morrison left.

I opened the door to the lab my mind full off worries about where my life was going. I almost jumped when I saw the dark figure bending over the microscope. He moved to change a slide and I just watched his long fingers nimbly pick up the small piece of glass. Sherlock Holmes, the man with the curls and slightly sarcastic smile, now I would add strangely interesting fingers to that description.

"Ah, you're here. Good. You can help on distinguishing these ashes."

"I have work to do."

"In your lunch break will do."

"I usually have lunch in my lunch break." I don't know why I was arguing with him. I don't usually argue with people. I had been waiting for him to show up at the lab again. I had wanted to see him again. But today I just wanted to be on my own. I felt if I was around people to much then I would have a breakdown.

He sighed dramatically as if I was spoiling all his plans and I felt a little guilty for a moment. Then he looked up at me and his eyes traveled from my face down my body and all over the place.

"You moved last night."

"Yes." I guessed somebody had mentioned that to him.

"You've been crying."

I took a deep breath but didn't answer.

"The epidermis below your eyes are swollen, your clothes have creases where they've been folded and packed in a suitcase. You haven't slept..."

"Yes all right I was crying!" I burst out angrily, then that spot of anger started to feel like the bomb that destroyed the dam, I just couldn't hold back the sobs. I couldn't see him with my hands covering my face but I somehow knew he was stood awkwardly staring at me not knowing what to do with this crazy woman in front of him.

"The driest place on earth is the dry valleys region in Antarctica which hasn't seen any rain in two million years."

I looked up. He saw stood their awkwardly looking at her.

"Mauna loa is taller than Mount Everest but it starts well below sea level which is why people don't usually count it as the worlds tallest mountain." I answered.

He smiled at me and brought a handkerchief out from the pocket inside his suit jacket. A real handkerchief not a tissue.

"Who wears suits in a lab and carried handkerchiefs?"

His smiled faltered slightly.

"I mean thank you." I said taking the handkerchief and drying my eyes with it. I don't know how I had stopped crying, I had felt like their were still floods inside but they were gone now.

"Keep it."

"It's mono-graphed."

"My Brother, he feels that making a gift personal means having initals put on it."

I handed it back to him and he tucked it back in his inside pocket. We stood there looking at each other awkwardly for a moment.

"Ash?"

"Yes. I am making a database of cigarette ash."

"Why?" I sniffed as I said it.

"To match the type of cigarette that was smoked on a crime scene to the type of cigarette that a suspect smokes."

"Oh."

"I can do it on my own."

"No, it's okay. I'll help during my lunch break. You're buying the sandwiches though."

He gave that smile again, the one that seemed to make my chest go tight.

"Deal."

"I have some cultures to examine."

"Yes." He said turning back to his own bench.

I found myself smiling despite my mood. It seemed like company wasn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

><p>Reviews always welcomed.<p> 


	3. Dear Richard

Dear Richard

"Stop smiling at me like that."

"Well, are you going to ask him?"

I smiled at Helen. Timothy was resting on her hip. He was fidgeting trying to get down. Absent-mindedly she passed him over to me and I had an arm of warm baby, four months old and beautiful with perfect skin and pouted lips and bright eyes that were just learning to focus and to watch. He was perfect. I wasn't ready yet though. I knew that, it had been a year since I had moved to London and I was just starting to learn who I was here, Andrea hardly ever played on my mind any more. But somebody did.

Sherlock would turn up every couple of months and stay a few days working. He asked me for help every now and again and I was always happy to help. He was very focused most of the time but occasionally I could get him to speak to me, sometimes I could even get him to smile. I wanted to know more about him but it was hard. It wasn't that he was quiet about himself, when the work was done he would talk, briefly but always something interesting. He would tell me about a small group of people in Rural China who had decided got rid of the idea of romantic love because it caused too much trouble. He told me of tribes in the Brazilian rainforest who used to worship Sydney because they received aid from their once and when asked where it was from they were told Sydney. They thought that Sydney was a God. He seemed to love history, travel and science, he was passionate and energetic. The problem was that he was too interesting. When you meet new people you always get a good idea of who they are, Sherlock was too complicated to really pin down.

I knew I liked him. I just didn't know if he liked me. He seemed to trust me enough to ask me to do things for him, and to trust my judgement. He at times seemed to even be flirting with me. He would met my eyes with a small smile he would call me over to lean over a book or a microscope so close to him that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body, he would explain something he'd just worked out to me. It was like he wanted praise, he wanted me to tell him he was clever. Why he'd need somebody to tell him that I don't know. It was obvious to everybody, but maybe he was lonely. I heard one of the policewomen who came to pick up some evidence off him once, she called him a freak. I was so angry with her, he wasn't a freak, he was different yes but the world is changed by that one percent who are run against the grain not the ninety nine percent of normal people. I don't think he cared much, he was resilient, thick skinned, perhaps that's why I couldn't tell If he liked me.

Helen had been pushing me for weeks, she thought it was time for me to get back on the horse as they say and I think she was right. There was only one way for me to know if Sherlock liked me and that was to ask him. Not ask him directly that is, but to ask him out, to coffee. Coffee was coffee, coffee was innocent, coffee didn't have to go anywhere but could also go fantastic places if it wanted.

"I haven't seen him yet but he came in two days ago asking me for a fresh body. I can;'t just give him anything of course, I have to wait for a body to come in that's been dedicated to science."

"So you have his number?"

"Yes."

"Just call him up and ask him out then."

"It's not that simple."

"It can be."

"He's different."

The next day Richard died.

I felt really sad. I wrote a card of sympathy to his brother, he'd never married. She found was sad as she went back to her apartment, it was tiny but it was all mine and I had been able to decorate it exactly how I wanted. I had like Richard, I hadn't seen him much since those first few days but he had been a good man.

I didn't know that I would be the one who would end up with Richard on my table. Bart's had found a good way of dealing with Dr. Morrison's retirement. They had hired two other part time pathologists which freed me up on cultures and paperwork so autopsies were my domain.

"Let's have a look." I said as I picked up my list of body details for the day. I was surprised to see a lilac form in amongst the usual blue. Lilac meant a corpse dedicated to science and it was my job to decide where it was best to send it, bodies were needed for many reasons and they were hard to come by. I flicked to the lilac to have a glance over it and gasped at the name.

'Richard Green.'

Oh, poor Richard. I thought I wouldn't see him again. I didn't think he would be on my table. I tried to concentrate as I looked over the other papers and organized in my mind what my timetable for the day would be, who to open up first, usually based on freshness of corpse then secondarily by ease of case. Once that was done I went to the refrigeration unit and pulled out the middle one.

"Hello Richard."

Some people say that corpse at times look like they're just sleeping, that's not true with those that have been in the refrigeration unit. They get a greyish colour to them. Richards eyes had taken on that slightly milky look and stared up at me in an empty gaze. I was used to all shapes and ages of corpses and I was glad to see that he had expired in a gentle fashion. His heart had just given in, high blood pressure and excess weight. I reached for the little comb I kept on the side for collecting particulates and I combed his hair into the sideways parting he tended to wear.

"That's a bit better." I reached over and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry Richard. I know you didn't like him but I believe in him. And there's a woman who is about to be charged with murder and he doesn't think she did it. I think he's right. He sees thing other people don't though I think he's also completely blind in some ways. Anyway, I know you wouldn't want that woman to end up in prison because somebody's made a mistake. I know we weren't close but I know you were a decent man and you wouldn't have wanted that. I really appreciated how welcome you made me feel my first few weeks here."

I slide the draw back into the refrigeration units.

I took my phone out of my pocket and messaged Sherlock.

_**Molly- Got a corpse for you.**_

_**Sherlock- On my way.**_

He was stood before me, impeccability dressed as usual in a long trench coat and scarf that he's been favouring for the last few months. As he bends over to sniff the corpse and ask me how fresh it is I feel that strange eager happiness I always get when he's around. I have a crush with all the excitement and heartbreak that goes along with it.

"Just in. Sixty seven. Natural causes. Used to work here. I knew him. He was nice."

Molly, you shouldn't sound so happy, stop smiling like an idiot.

"Fine, we'll start with the riding crop."

I fetch him the riding crop we have in storage for comparing injuries and victims.

As I hand it over I give a nervous smile.

"Bit kinky isn't it."

He holds it up and looks at it his eyes narrowing.

"Looks straight enough to me."

I left him and ran to my locker. I tidy up my hair and pull out the shower bag to apply the new lipstick I got over the weekend. Looking at myself in the mirror I was passable. As I walked back to the autopsy room I stopped to watch him through the observation window. It's so strange to see a man in a suit doing something so active, he's whipping the corpse his arms flying gracefully through the air his curls bouncing, he's putting so much energy into it that I wince at each snap of leather. Towards the end his face changes as do he's movements, there's something angry in it. But I guess we all like to take out those negative feelings at times.

I am just waiting to get the chance to ask him out for the coffee. I want him to look at me, to notice me, I want him to be as interested in me as I am in him. I see that he's done and walk back into my autopsy room.

"So, bad day was it?"

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me."

It was now or never.

"Listen, I was wondering, maybe later when you're finished."

He squinted at me distracted as he was writing in his note book.

"You're wearing lipstick, you weren't wearing lipstick before."

He interrupted me before I finished asking him. I hesitated. I felt caught out. I didn't know what to say.

"I uh.. I refreshed it a bit."

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was wondering if you would like to have coffee."

"Black two sugars please, I'll be upstairs."

He walked off leaving me standing there feeling a bit shell shocked.

"Okay." I said just as he reached the door.

I looked down at Richard.

"Was I not obvious enough? I wasn't obvious enough. Or maybe it was just like out of the blue. Maybe I need to show him that I like him. Flirt a little. Oh shut up I know you disapprove."

_**Helen- How did it go?**_

_**Molly- It was awful. **_

_**Helen-He said no?**_

_**Molly-I think he didn't understand me.**_

_**Helen-What did you say?**_

_**Molly-Do you want coffee?**_

_**Helen-And he said...**_

_**Molly-Yes please black with two sugars.**_

_**Helen-What does he think you are, his serving girl?**_

_**Molly-No, he's just too focused on his work right now.**_

I sighed, what did he think of me? He was so difficult to read. I picked up a file, old lady, possibly poisoned. Time to get back on with the job.


	4. Crime Scene Bunny

Hello, just a quick one of a scene I can see happening. Hope you like it.

**Crime Scene Bunny**

"So he wasn't stabbed?" Greg Lestrade looked at her over a cadaver.

"No. The sprained ankle suggests that he tripped whilst carrying the scissors and then bled out as he tried to crawl to the telephone. Not a nice ending." I replied.

"No. Poor sod. Anyway, that's a case-load off my mind." He gave me a friendly smile. "Don't know what we'd do without you lot."

"Oh, thanks." I said smiling back. I had met the man several times now and he seemed truly nice. He looked down at his watch.

"Looks like it's time for lunch. Hows the cafeteria?"

"It's fair. Um.. the vegetarian tends to be nice but they cook the meat too long and it gets tough. The salad bar tends to have enough to make an interesting enough salad if you don't eat it every day of the week."

His smile faltered.

"I guess I'd better stick to the salad bar, my wife has recently taken up tennis and has been telling me I'm out of shape."

"I'm sure your in pretty good shape for a man your age. Oh God, that sound quite rude didn't it? Um.. could I join you for lunch. I wanted to ask you about something."

"Yeah, all right then."

"I'll go get cleaned up. Please feel free to start without me I just need to wash Mr. Davis from under my fingernails."

"Right." Lestrade said looking a little off put.

When I found him he was sat in a corner of the cafeteria on his own eating a salad.

"So, what do you want to know?" He asked me as I snacked on a tuna sandwich.

"Well." I said shyly wondering for a moment if perhaps I was starting something that would lead to trouble. I mean, what would he make of it? And he was a police officer, I was probably wasting his time. "It's just I realize that you know Sherlock. In fact you were the one who introduced him here at Bart's and asked that he be allowed to use the labs."

"Oh god what has he done now." Greg leaned back in his chair looking frustrated.

"Oh, nothing."

"Are you sure, he hasn't been making trouble for you?"

"No. I was just curious as to how you meet?"

"How we meet?"

"Yes?"

"Why?"

This was not going as I would have liked. I guess it was a strange request though.

"I'm just interested."

"You're interested in Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes."

"Well it takes all kinds I suppose." He sat back in the chair. "Look, you seem like a nice girl."

"I'm thirty two and that's hardly a girl."

"Right yes, I didn't mean to sound patronising. You seem a nice.. woman, and there are some things about Sherlock Holmes that aren't particularly...good. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"What things?"

"I don't think I can tell you that."

"Loyalty?"

"Something along those lines."

"So, how did you meet?"

"You're not going to drop this are you?"

"No."

"I became aware of him before I met him properly. I saw him hanging around the edges of our police tape a couple of times. I started to notice him because people spending to much time around crime scenes and can lead to trouble. I thought he might just be a crime scene bunny though those do tend to be women."

"Sorry, crime scene bunny?"

"Yeah, people who get off on being around murder sites. But one day I was working on the murder of a man who had been having an affair with his mother in law. I thought that it was the wife and I was just about to go arrest her when Sherlock turned up at my office. Just sat there when I got back from lunch bold as brass fiddling with my paper-clips. He had been working as a private investigator for the woman I was about to arrest and he said he had important information for me. I gave him ten minutes and he solved the murder. He was actually killed by his brother in law who had known about the affair all along. The next time I saw him hanging around the crime scene tape I stopped and asked him if he knew anything this time, he glanced at the body from about ten feet away and immediately pointed out three pieces of evidence that I hadn't even noticed. That's where it all started really, I tested him by giving him a pile of already solved cases and he correctly judged who the murderer was each time. I thought that maybe I could get him into the force but it turned out he had quite a few issues that put an end to those possibilities. Besides he was never really interested in joining us, just telling us where we were going wrong. He has an arrogant streak the width of the M25 that one."

I gave a little smile.

"You know, often, people who seem arrogant are just hiding insecurities."

"Sherlock Holmes insecure." He laughed. "So, are you going to tell me what is this all about then?"

"I told you. Curiosity."

"Don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"I am a detective you know, I do know when people are hiding things from me."

"Well, he is quite handsome actually."

"Is he?" Lestrade said.

"Yes he is."

"I never thought of him like that."

"Well why would you?"

"Fair enough. I think you're barking up the wrong tree there though. Like I said, dangerous."

"You're not the first one whose said that to me but I just don't see it."

"You will do. He's a genius, I know that, he's got a brain like I don't know what but I can't say he's a good guy." He glanced at his watch. "I've got somewhere I have to be. But you take care of yourself okay?"

"I will."

"And please, at least think about what I've said."

"I will." I promised. "Um.. Mr Lestrade."

He turned back to me.

"Could you perhaps not mention this to him."

Lestrade shook his head.

"Believe me that's a conversation I'll be avoiding."

"Thank you."

I would think about it. Although what I was thinking was that I hadn't known I was the type for bad boys. Perhaps it was that excitement I felt my life was lacking.


End file.
